


Give Them All That They Can Drink (and It Will Never Be Enough)

by mthrfkrgdhrwego (universalchampbalor)



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Blood Drinking, Feeding, Implied Sexual Content, Kinda, M/M, Vampires, alright?, dean def jerks finn off, fangbanger finn, pain play, vampire shield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-05-08 00:26:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14682627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universalchampbalor/pseuds/mthrfkrgdhrwego
Summary: The sharp, hard pain of fangs splitting skin hits him from three different directions all at once.





	1. Chapter 1

He doesn’t really know how, or when, this started.

He thinks he might have been drunk, might have been at a party, or a bar. Maybe it was after a fight, or after a night of getting high with god know who in the back of Gallows’ van. All he knows is it’s a blur, will always be a blur, memories lost in a haze of booze or weed or post-fight adrenaline and blows to the head.

All he knows is it ended up with him here, waiting in a dimly lit room an hour away from where he lives. He’s full of adrenaline, knows what’s coming, knows that his nerves make it feel even better for everyone involved. His knee is bouncing up and down, his phone tapping against his thigh, and he’s not the only one like this. 

There are a few other people waiting with him. There’s a man with short blonde hair and wide blown blue eyes, stubble running down the scarred column of his neck. There’s a muscular man with brown hair twisted into a bun and deep eyes that never seem to focus right who paces and runs through basic dance footings. There’s another man who sits close to Finn and strikes up polite conversation, with long greying brown hair and sharp eyes with immaculately styled facial hair. There’s a girl that always tucks herself into the corner, knees to her chest, red hair a little wild, dark skin sweaty and ashen, her orange eyes bright and wild. Every once and awhile, there’s a man with a shaved head and dark eyes, who has braces and broad muscles, who acts like he’s not there for what they all know he’s there for. 

It’s what they’re all there for.

After god knows how long, a man comes through the locked double doors at the far end of the room. The girl in the corner starts, and the man who’s pacing stops in his tracks. No one takes a breath. The man has silver hair slicked into a tight jelly roll and tattoos poured across his skin, the ones on his neck hidden by a smattering of stubble and pinprick scars. He’s wearing a slick maroon suit that’s tailored to his every curve, a black button up opened over a slick leather collar.

He comes in with a soft, disarming smile that doesn’t match the scabbing bites on his neck and the silk blindfolds in his hand. He’ll call someone over in a deep voice, smooth the blindfold over their eyes, and lead them further into the lair.

Finn waits for what feels like hours, his blood feeling molten in his veins. There’s a pit in his stomach, like a ten-pound weight in the hollow of his pelvis, caused by something he doesn’t want to analyze. His hands are shaking, palms sweating, and smoothing them against his jeans doesn’t do much to make him seem more composed.

Eventually, the man comes out and calls Finn’s name. Finn stands, wavers, and tries not to stumble as he walks over. The man’s hands are steady as he ties the blindfold tight around Finn’s eyes. At first, it had felt oppressive, the silk like wet wool over his eyes that made it hard to breathe. Now, it’s cool, light, reassuring in the weirdest way.

The man asks if Finn’s passed out recently, if he’s anemic, how much he’s eaten and what he’s eaten. He answers almost in a daze, feeling like he’s starting to float away. He wonders who’s going to bite him, where he’s going to get bitten, how long it’ll last. It’s always different. It’s part of the allure.

The man leads Finn deeper into the building, and Finn strains his senses to try and find where he is. He’s completely lost to the world, and it’s so god damn exciting, it’s enough to make Finn’s lungs tighten. 

The man leads him to a stop and guides him to sit in a stiff, low backed stool. The back bites into the small of his spine and he can’t relax in any way without falling over. He sits, spine straight as an arrow, and waits.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there.

He sits in darkness, the silk of the blindfold warming with his body temperature, becoming just barely too much as time goes on. He can hear the sound of vampires feeding, the harsh breathing of their meals, the occasional moan or whimper. He can smell the metallic tang of blood, can almost taste the bitter bite of it on his tongue.

After what feels like an eternity of floating in darkness, a hand lands on his shoulder. He jumps, muscles tensing, before relaxing as the grip squeezes a little. He can feel the cold bodies of two vampires around him. Wait, no. There are three, one behind him, one to his left, and one crouched against his right leg.

“Pretty boy’s back.” One hums, a nasally voice stained some sort of suffering, with pain and darkness. Finn shivers. The one who spoke grabs his arm and runs callused, cold fingers down the line of his arm, tracing the veins from his median cubital vein down his forearms to his ulnar artery. He tries to suppress the tremble that runs down his spine.

“Your skin clean, baby?” The one behind him breathes, voice a low rumble, right against his ear. Finn can’t help the whimper that slips between his red-bitten lips. He nods almost frantically, his throat locking as he tries to talk. He instead settles for melting against the cool body behind him, hoping the vampire’s senses will pick up the scent of soap still lingering on his skin.

“‘S it okay if I cut your pants, Doll? Swear these veins are callin’ to me.” The one on his knees purrs, voice a low rasp stained with gravel and smoke, running a hand along the seam of Finn’s pants. Finn’s already feels breathless, and they’ve barely touched him. He’s so fucked

He feels the sharp bite of a blade against the line of his inner thigh, hears his jeans splitting. His skin doesn’t break, but it’s close, and he knows he’s going to have an angry red scratch there.

One of them grabs his wrist and pulls it up, hot breath huffing against his skin. He tries not to move, tries not to writhe like he wants to, planting himself like dead weight in the chair, against the man behind him. He feels like jelly, like he’s boneless, like he’s on a pink cloud.

The sharp, hard pain of fangs splitting skin hits him from three different directions all at once. 

First, it comes from his neck. The man behind him licks a wide stripe down the line of his throat before sliding a mouthful of long, needlepoint fangs into both his internal and external jugular at once. He can feel his blood pouring from his veins, feels like he’s been stabbed, can feel his carotid artery screaming in his throat, mere centimeters away from the vampire’s fangs.

Next, it comes from his wrist. The breath hits first, hot and wet and like a brand, before the fingers tighten around his wrist, and then four curved fangs slide into his ulnar artery. He can feel the barest hint of tongue pressed against his skin, can feel the vampire moving his fangs to split his skin  _ wider _ .

The third licks across his thigh, gets higher than necessary, slides his tongue almost to the junction of Finn’s thigh and crotch. He lowers his mouth, not before pressing his lips against Finn’s thigh in a sick form of a kiss, and locks his teeth to the femoral vein running down Finn’s thigh. His fangs are short and blunt, every tooth in his mouth, and Finn has no doubts that he’s going to have a hell of a bruise there in the morning.

He’s already feeling lightheaded, his blood rushing out of him at what might be considered an alarming rate. He feels like he’s swimming, like he’s floating, the only things keeping him semi-grounded the three mouths on his skin, the three sets of teeth sunk into his skin, into his veins. There’s going to be bruising left behind, scabs, little scars, but he can’t be bothered to  _ care _ because it feels like everything he’s been missing in life.

He can tell he’s getting hard, and his brain knows it’s because of the rush of adrenaline and the endorphins that come with it, from the saliva being pressed against his skin. Still, his body is reacting to the lips pressed against his skin, to the tongues laving against his skin, to the hands gripping him almost too tight. There’s something a little erotic about it, about the mouths and teeth and tongues.

A hand spreads his legs further, and his breath catches low in his throat. A hand scrambles for his zipper, pulls it down, and the mouth on his thigh detaches. He can feel his blood leaking down his thigh without a mouth to catch it, and he has to fight back a shiver.

He hears a wet inhale, hears someone swallow. A finger drags through the blood slicking down his thigh and swipes it across Finn’s already red lips. “S’this okay, doll?” The vamp on his knees asks, drops his hand to the open fly of Finn’s pants. Finn can’t nod, not with a vampire holding his head stable, and he can’t speak either because of the fangs in his throat. He raises a shaky thumbs up and grabs the hand, presses it firmly to his crotch.

The vampire on his knees laughs and curls his fingers. “Alright, baby, I gotcha.” He fits his fangs back into Finn’s thigh and tightens his jaw, sending a fresh spike of pain down his spine.

He leaves that day lightheaded with his boxers sticky with more than just blood.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s another three weeks before Finn can go back.

When he finally manages it, he can’t even sit still as he waits. In the waiting room, he paces, barely able to take seven full steps before he has to pivot on his foot. The man with the collar almost turns him away, tells him that the adrenaline will make the blood loss worse. He manages to talk his way through.

In the actual lair, he bounces his knee. He almost falls off the stool with how hard he moves. His hands are shaking too, but those are smoothed against his thighs or tapping against his knees. The blindfold seems suffocating, taking away one of his senses, making it harder for him to be patient.

After what feels like a goddamn eternity, a pair of hands push his knees still.

Finn jackknifes- or, he tries to. His knees can’t move because of the pressure the vampire puts on him, because of the strength in which he’s being held down. Finn can feel the vampire leaning over him, can feel cold breath against his face.

“Well, well, well,” the vampire begins, voice gravel sharp and whiskey hot and low as sin. “Looks like the pretty boy’s back.” He ducks his head and buries his nose in Finn’s shoulder, takes a deep breath and sighs against his skin. A tongue slides across the jackhammer of his pulse. 

Finn recognizes the voice. It’s one of the vampires that tends to feed off of him. He usually prefers feeding from the veins of Finn’s thighs, and it’s not like Finn minds. Today, he fits a hand to Finn’s hip and lets his fangs drag across the edge of Finn’s jaw. 

“I’ve already fed t’night,” he says, pressing a bite to Finn’s neck. “Still, your blood’s a siren call, baby, and I can’t resist it.” He nips, quick and sharp and shallow, at Finn’s jaw, and Finn sighs at the pain that blossoms across his nerves. “So, if it’s alright with you, I’d like t’ take a taste.” Finn nods blindly. “Stand up, baby.”

Finn listens, clumsily standing on legs shaky with adrenaline and a thousand other emotions. After a second, he feels a pair of hands settle on his hips and guide him forwards. The vampire has taken up residence on the stool, and he maneuvers Finn to sit across the line of his thighs. Finn might as well be putty in the vampire’s grip for as easily as he’s being moved.

The vampire presses a sharp kiss to the underside of Finn’s jaw before leaning up, trailing kisses to the corner of Finn’s mouth. “This okay, baby?” He asks, their lips brushing slightly. Finn sighs out a “yeah,” his voice breathy and fuzzy around the edges.

The vampire leans in quickly, like a viper strike. He presses their lips together, and Finn makes a noise at the back of his throat that he can’t hold back if his life depended on it. The vamp wastes no time licking into Finn’s mouth, Finn pliant and so turned on he can barely move his fingers. 

Finn’s world turns a little sideways, his sense of time distorting even further as the vampire kisses him for what feels like hours. His hands are settled on Finn’s hips, his fingers digging into Finn’s skin hard enough to hurt. There are gonna be bruises left after this.

Finn doesn’t care.

Eventually, the vampire sucks Finn’s lower lip into his mouth and bites, hard. Because his teeth are so blunt, it takes a lot of pressure for Finn’s skin to split. Eventually it does, and not in just one spot. Blood bursts from his lip, some splashing back into his own mouth. The vampire takes a long moment to drink, sucking mouthfuls from Finn’s lip, sliding his teeth through the skin to keep the wound open and bleeding. 

Eventually, he gives up on feeding and returns to kissing Finn. His tongue tastes of blood- Finn’s blood- and his teeth keep scraping along the edges of Finn’s tongue whenever he licks into the vampire’s mouth. The vampire’s claws dig into Finn’s hips above the hem of his jeans, hands slid under his shirt. 

He’s sure he’s bleeding there too, probably staining his shirt, but he can’t bring himself to care because the vampire is grinding against his ass and he’s just as hard as Finn is. His breath is coming in a little heavy, a little ragged, even though he doesn't need it. Finn wonders if he should feel accomplished.

The vamp pulls off Finn's mouth to instead trail kisses and rough, shallow bites to Finn's jaw and throat. He uses a sharp claw to slice Finn's shirt halfway down, pushes it out of the way with cold hands. He sinks his fangs into Finn's pec after giving a rough lick to his already hard nipple.

Finn can't do anything but gasp and try and grope for something to hold as the vampire sucks on his tit. He settles a hand in the vamp's hair and tries not to fall off the narrow, uneven stool. 

The vampire is breathing raggedly, managing to suck down handfuls of blood as he rocks his hard cock up against the curve of Finn's ass.

“Fuck, baby,” the vampire gasps, grabbing a handful of Finn's ass and squeezing. “'Ve got halfa mind to take you t’ one of the back rooms to fuck your brains out. 'N you'd let me too, if the way you're grindin’ is a hint. Wanna bleed you dry.” He growls, biting the junction of Finn's shoulder as he gropes Finn's ass with a clawed hand, almost shredding through the ass of his jeans.

Finn comes in his shorts right then and there.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tonyknees on tumblr! Come bug me!  
> Title credit to Blood by My Chemical Romance


End file.
